


we were pretending, until we weren't

by almostafantasia



Series: Clexa Week 2017 [4]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bathroom Sex, ClexaWeek2017, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 00:09:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10058303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almostafantasia/pseuds/almostafantasia
Summary: When Clarke asks Lexa to pretend to be her girlfriend at a party to make her ex-boyfriend jealous, it is simultaneously the best and worst moment of Lexa’s life. But even though her feelings and her closest friendship are on the line, Lexa finds herself complaining less and less as the night goes on, especially when Clarke’s affection continues long after Finn has left.





	

Lexa has heard plenty of stupid things in her lifetime, but she’s pretty sure that Clarke’s pleading request in the middle of a crowded frat party tops them all.

“You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend?” she repeats, her entire face contorting into a look of incredulity. “To … to _what_?”

“To make my ex-boyfriend jealous – no, Lexa!” Clarke reaches out and rests a hand on Lexa’s arm as Lexa rolls her eyes in a display of disapproval at the words that she can’t believe are leaving her friend’s lips. “Don’t give me that look! I promise it’s not as dumb as it sounds.

“Really?” Lexa snorts. “Because it sounds pretty fucking dumb.”

Clarke pouts and it’s unfair really, because Lexa knows that Clarke knows how difficult it is for her to say no when Clarke looks at her like that.

“Lexa…” Clarke whines.

“Clarke, he cheated on you,” Lexa attempts to reason, though she can already feel herself crumbling. She should know better by now, after three years of friendship with Clarke, that the other girl has an aptitude for always getting her way. Or rather, Lexa has an aptitude to conceding and letting Clarke get whatever she wants with nothing but a pleading look and a subtle shift in the tone of her voice as she says Lexa’s name. “He isn’t worth it.”

“Actually,” Clarke corrects her, “he cheated _with_ me. On Raven. And now he has a new girlfriend who is way hotter than both of us.”

“He’s a fuckboy,” Lexa points out. “He’s not worth it. You don’t need to make him jealous.”

“I just want to prove to him that I don’t care about him anymore.”

“Really?” Lexa says scornfully. “Because it sounds like you care an awful lot about what he thinks of you.”

“Take it as a compliment,” Clarke attempts to reason. “Finn’s like … like a _four_ , but you’re at least an eight! A nine, even!” When Lexa shows no sign of conceding, Clarke adds feebly, “Nine and a half.” Her voice becoming more insistent, Clarke begs, “Please, Lexa. I just want to show him that I’m way better than his cheating ass.”

Clarke takes one of Lexa’s hands in hers, swinging it between them and looking up at Lexa with her blue eyes full of a persuasive innocence. Lexa can feel her resolve disintegrating around her in the same way that a cookie might crumble in her hands, a little bit at a time at first, until a huge crack forms and it collapses entirely.

“Fine,” she groans in concession.

“Thank you so much!” Clarke beams, practically jumping up on down on the spot when Lexa gives her the good news. With a flash of guilt crossing her face, Clarke takes a step closer until their bodies are almost touching and then adds, “Because he’s coming over here right now.”

Lexa lifts her head and starts to look around for Finn’s approach, but before she can do so, Clarke has raised a hand to Lexa’s cheek to bring her face back down. Lexa swallows thickly when she realises that Clarke’s face is just inches from her own. In her promise to pretend to be Clarke’s girlfriend for the night, she had completely ignored the fact that Clarke might ask for physical affection to make the relationship seem a genuine one. And with Clarke’s face slowly making its way closer to Lexa’s, her _mouth_ making its way closer to Lexa’s, Lexa wonders if it’s too late to back out and call the whole thing off.

“Clarke!”

Their mouths so close that their foreheads are actually touching, Lexa has never been so relieved to hear Finn Collins’ voice before, giving her an excuse to take a step back and put some distance between herself and her new fake girlfriend.

“Hey, how are you doing?” Clarke says to Finn, all feigned politeness and forced smiles.

Lexa feels a hand on the small of her back and freezes as she realises that it’s Clarke slowly snaking her arm around Lexa’s waist and bringing them together until their bodies bump at the hips. Lexa tries to ignore the flutter of anxiety in her chest, instead forcing herself to stand up straight and lift her chin with an air of imposing smugness.

Her fingers squeezing lightly at Lexa’s waist, Clarke continues, “This is my girlfriend, Lexa. She’s my girlfriend.”

It takes all of Lexa’s willpower to not laugh at Clarke’s awkwardness, but she does at least relax slightly now that she knows that Clarke is clearly just as nervous as she is about this entire charade.

“Nice to meet you,” says Finn, holding out a hand in Lexa’s direction. Lexa takes his hand and gives it a firm shake in an attempt to establish some kind of dominance in the situation. “How long have you been together?”

Lexa’s eyes widen at the unexpected question and she turns to Clarke for an answer.

“How long has it been, _babe_?”

If she didn’t know Clarke quite as well as she does, she would have perhaps missed the way that the corners of Clarke’s mouth twitch at the pet name.

“What is it, three weeks?” Clarke answers, looking up at Lexa for confirmation.

“Something like that,” Lexa agrees.

“It’s still very new and exciting,” Clarke adds, her hand on Lexa’s waist dropping slightly so that it is resting more on her hips now.

“But,” Lexa interjects, feeling a moment of inspiration, “we’ve been such close friends for so long that it was almost inevitable that it was going to happen at some point.”

Finn just looks between them, eyes wide and mouth slightly open as he considers them, then takes a couple of steps backwards and gestures with his thumb over his shoulder.

“I’m just going to … it was nice to see you again, Clarke.” He turns to look at Lexa and then adds a little stiffly, “Nice to properly meet you.”

Lexa watches him retreat, then when he is far enough away to be out of earshot, she turns her attention onto Clarke.

“How was that?”

“I think that was _incredibly_ successful,” Clarke grins. “Nice touch with the whole ‘inevitability’ thing. I’ve never known Finn to be speechless like that before.”

Lexa spares another glance for Finn across the room. As if sensing Lexa’s eyes on him, he turns his head to look at the two girls once more, a confused frown on his face.

“He’s looking this way,” Clarke hisses, tugging at Lexa’s hand insistently. “Quick, pretend that you’re madly in love with me.”

Lexa could snort at the word ‘pretend’, and maybe she even would, were it not for the immediate distraction that comes in the form of Clarke’s lips messily colliding with her own.

It’s not at all what a first kiss should be like. First kisses should be laced with nerves, full of unspoken promises of more to come, soft and tender and imperfect in the best of ways. First kisses are not supposed to be awkwardly unexpected, they aren’t supposed to be stiff and stilted.  First kisses are supposed to be a cherished memory for the two participants, not a false display of lust for a third party standing on the other side of the room.

But, Lexa remembers, this isn’t supposed to be a first kiss. This is supposed to be the kiss of two people still in the honeymoon phase of their three week long relationship, full of fiery passion and blossoming love and the inability to keep their hands off each other.

Lexa drops her hands to Clarke’s hips and steers her backwards a couple of steps until her back collides with the wall with a small thud that causes their lips to part for just a second. Looking into Clarke’s eyes, which are full of an almost unrecognisable curiosity, Lexa quickly uses one of her hands to brush Clarke’s hair behind her ear, then leans in to kiss Clarke with as much passion as she can muster.

It’s one hell of a second kiss. Where the first kiss was wooden and dispassionate, the second is a fiery opposite. Lexa goes in with an open mouth, nipping at Clarke’s bottom lip with her teeth and then immediately soothing it with her tongue. Clarke lets out a gasp in response, her own lips parting in turn, and then their tongues are tangling together messily. But it isn’t messy like the first kiss was, uncertain and not quite moving together – no, this kiss is messy in a way that is full of desire and silent promises.

Which, considering that this is only the second time their lips have ever met, has Lexa feeling pretty damn impressed.

“Wow,” Clarke gasps, when they part for air moments later. “I didn’t know you had that in you, Woods.”

Emboldened by the post-kiss pheromones that thrum through her entire body, Lexa quips back, “There are lots of things you don’t know about me, Clarke.”

Even as she says the words, Lexa lets one of her hands slowly slide down from Clarke’s hips until she is cupping the curve of Clarke’s denim-clad ass cheek in her palm.

“Lexa!” Clarke yelps unexpectedly.

“What?” Lexa feigns innocence for a couple of seconds, before letting a teasing smile spread across her face. Nuzzling her face into Clarke’s neck as if kissing it, she murmurs softly, “If I’m going to be your fake girlfriend then I’m going to be fake groping you. You okay with that?”

Clarke lets out a little gasp as Lexa’s lips actually brush against the sensitive skin of her neck, her hand coming up to tangle in Lexa’s curly hair, then she answers breathily, “Yeah, I guess so.”

Lexa pulls back and rests her forehead against Clarke’s.

“Besides,” she continues with a wicked grin, “I’m just letting Finn know that I’m able to make up for all the orgasms that he failed to give you.”

“Lexa!” Clarke pushes Lexa’s shoulder roughly. She rolls her eyes but the smile on her face is enough to tell Lexa that she isn’t actually mad.

“You’re not going to try to convince me that the floppy-haired fuckboy is actually good in bed, are you?” Clarke’s silence is all the answer that Lexa needs, and Lexa adds smugly, “I knew it. You know, I’ve never understood why girls who sleep with guys put up with bad sex.”

“Calm down, sex goddess,” Clarke jabs Lexa in the arm with one of her fingers, then asks, “How do you know a girl has never faked one with you?”

“Oh, I know,” she answers immediately, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at Clarke.

“You’re an asshole,” Clarke rolls her eyes once more. “Why am I even fake dating you?”

“Because you love me,” Lexa says effortlessly.

“Annoyingly, I do,” admits Clarke. Changing the subject, she says, “I’m going to get a drink, do you want one?”

“Sure. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

Clarke leans in slowly, pressing a lingering kiss to Lexa’s lips full of promise and a quiet passion that has even Lexa questioning the pretence of it all.

“I’ll be back in a second, _honey_.”

Lexa shakes her head at Clarke’s pet name for her and then, when Clarke has vanished into the crowd of partygoers, finally lets herself sigh for the first time since Clarke made the suggestion that pushed them both headfirst into this mess. Leaning against the same bit of wall that she so recently pushed Clarke up against to kiss her, Lexa lets her head fall back and her eyes close for a brief moment of peace amidst the carnage. Until a body nudges into hers and leans against the wall beside her.

“What’s the matter?”

Lexa opens her eyes to find Anya standing beside her, a single eyebrow arched in Lexa’s direction.

“I’m _so_ gay,” Lexa groans.

“And that’s an issue because…?”

Lexa holds both hands up to her face, rubbing at her eyes with the heels of her hand, then lets them drop back to her side as she explains, “Because I’ve just spent the last few minutes making out with Clarke against this wall.”

Lexa had been expecting some kind of reaction from Anya to this shocking revelation, perhaps a ‘ _no way_ ’ or maybe even an ‘ _it’s about time that happened_ ’, but there is nothing. Anya shows no surprise, nor even any emotion at all, at Lexa’s big news.

“Again,” says Anya, “I’m having trouble identifying the problem here.”

“She asked me to help make her ex-boyfriend jealous,” Lexa elaborates.

“Oh shit,” says Anya, her eyebrows shooting up across her hairline as she finally displays some kind of surprise at Lexa’s current situation. “The ex being that Collins asshole?”

“Finn. Yes.”

“The guy who has been parading that blonde piece of arm candy around like she’s a trophy?”

Lexa glances across the room to where Finn has his arm draped around the shoulders of a blonde girl wearing a tiny skirt and a top that is just a fraction too tight.

“Apparently that’s his new girlfriend,” Lexa nods.

“She’s also not the same girl as the redhead I saw him aggressively dry humping in a club two nights ago,” Anya says.

Wrinkling her nose up in disgust, Lexa says, “I’m glad we’re both agreed that he’s a jerk.”

“Why does she need to make him jealous?” asks Anya.

Lexa rolls her eyes because she’s been asking herself exactly the same question since Clarke asked for her help. Though she’s not exactly complaining because holy _shit_ that kiss is going to be on permanent replay in her mind for possibly the rest of eternity, it does sting a little bit to know that Clarke’s participation in the kiss was nothing more than a ploy to make a douchebag jealous.

“Because he screwed her over and she’s trying to prove to him that she’s moved on,” shrugs Lexa, repeating what Clarke told her earlier even though it makes no senses to her either.

“With you?” Anya throws back her head and lets out a deep cackling laugh. “Oh boy, you’re fucked. And not in the good way.”

Nudging Anya with her elbow in irritation, Lexa says drily, “I’m so glad that I can always count on you for sympathy, Anya.”

“You’re welcome, squirt,” says Anya, pushing herself off the wall and ruffling Lexa’s hair with one of her hands. Her expression turns solemn and she continues, “Listen, just speak to her. Let her know that you’re not entirely comfortable with this arrangement.”

Lexa is just about to nod and agree with Anya’s suggestion when Clarke chooses that exact moment to approach with a red plastic cup filled with an unidentifiable and no doubt questionable alcoholic drink in each hand. She places both cups on the shelf to Lexa’s left, then wraps both arms possessively around Lexa’s neck and draws her in for a long kiss.

“Jesus,” Lexa is vaguely aware of Anya saying from beside them. “This is some gay shit right here.”

 _Yes_ , Lexa’s brain agrees, completely forgetting the plan that the two of them had been just beginning to formulate to stop Clarke from doing exactly what she is currently doing. _It really is_.

* * *

It continues in much the same way for the rest of the night, and as much Lexa hates to admit that she’s enjoying it, she really is. She likes having Clarke attached to her all night, whether that’s Clarke’s arm draped around her waist, or Clarke sitting in her lap, or just Clarke coming up with another fumbling excuse to kiss incredibly publicly.

It’s a weird feeling, having all of Clarke’s attention. It feels a little bit like Lexa’s insides are being slowly clawed apart with the dilemma because on one hand, she’s really enjoying the slightly tipsy affection, but on the other hand, she’s worried about what this is going to mean for their friendship when the moment comes for them to stop pretending.

The moment comes way sooner than Lexa would have liked, or so she thinks. She hates the way that she feels disappointed when she spots Finn and his girlfriend collecting their jackets on the way to the front door, hates the fact there is no need to keep up the façade of a pretend relationship now that Finn is leaving the party.

Or so she thinks.

It’s a good ten minutes after Finn’s departure that Clarke accosts her on the landing outside the bathroom, not with a normal greeting but instead trapping Lexa against the wall between her arms and leaning in for another kiss. Lexa lets Clarke kiss her, then when Clarke’s coaxes Lexa’s lips open with her own, lifts her hands to Clarke’s hips and pulls her in closer. She gasps into the kiss when Clarke’s tongue swipes against her own, hands tightening on Clarke’s hips like she never wants to let her go. Which, to be quite honest, she doesn’t.

Except that this isn’t real, they aren’t _actually_ dating, and as much as she’s enjoying the way that Clarke’s lips press insistently against her own, there are also other things she enjoys about Clarke, such as her sense of humour and her smile and the way she always knows exactly how to cheer Lexa up when she’s feeling down. And Lexa knows that the longer they remain attached at the mouth, the more she’s jeopardising everything else.

“Clarke,” Lexa pulls back from the kiss, then when Clarke ignores her and tries to go in for another, she turns her head away so that Clarke’s lips plant themselves against her cheek instead. “Clarke, Finn isn’t here anymore.”

“So?”

Clarke’s eyes are dark, her cheeks flushed and her lips swollen, and it takes all of Lexa’s self-restraint to not dive back in for another kiss when Clarke is looking at her like she wants to devour her, but this is their friendship at stake.

“So there’s no need to keep pretending.”

Clarke lets out a sigh and with her arms still framed either side of Lexa’s head, she let her own head fall forward until her forehead is resting against the wall next to her left hand. Lexa is pretty sure that she’s ruined everything in a single sentence and mentally curses herself for being unable to keep her big mouth shut, until Clarke speaks.

“What if I’m not?” she asks, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Pretending, I mean.”

Lexa has always thought that having one’s heart skip a beat is something that only happens to heterosexual women in poorly written romance novels, but in that moment she’s pretty sure that her heart stops thumping against her ribcage for a second or two as she realises the implications of Clarke’s words.

“Are you drunk?” she asks, because she _has_ to. She just has to know that Clarke’s words aren’t the product of an alcohol-induced lust forming an attachment to the nearest interested party.

“Not really. Are you?”

“No.”

 _Only on you_.

Lexa hates her brain the moment those words cross her mind, she hates how true they are and how she lacks the bravery to say them out loud.

Pushing herself back off the wall, Clarke puts about a foot of distance between them. It’s a little bit easier to think clearly now that Clarke’s body isn’t pressed flush against her own, but now that she can see the disconcerted frown on Clarke’s face, Lexa thinks she prefers it when they were kissing instead of talking.

“Lexa, what are we doing?” Clarke says with a heavy sigh.

“We’re making Finn jealous.”

It’s a lie and they both know it. Clarke snorts under her breath before speaking once more.

“I don’t think Finn has been a part of this since right after I came up with the idea.”

Lexa looks Clarke directly in the eye with a questioning gaze and asks, “Then why…?”

“I don’t know,” Clarke says without letting Lexa finish her question. “Everything in my brain keeps screaming at me to stop.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“I’m not sure I can.”

“Me neither,” confesses Lexa.

Lexa is the one who makes the move this time, unlike the rest of the evening so far when Clarke has been the one to initiate pretty much everything. She crosses the landing slowly, collecting Clarke in her arms as she does, and pushes her up against the opposite wall.

But Lexa waits before kissing Clarke – she waits until Clarke’s breathing is heavy, her chest rising and falling, her eyes full of want and her hands squeezing at Lexa’s hips in a request for something more – and when she finally leans in it is so much better than before. Now that they are no longer doing this for the public eye, now that Lexa doesn’t have to worry about how the way she is kissing will come across to anybody except for Clarke, it’s like a flame has been ignited between them, fuelled by their mutual desire.

It’s the first kiss that they should have had. Hot and urgent and just a little bit messy around the edges but so full of hope. So full of passion and tenderness and … and _love_? Lexa doesn’t want to admit that she loves Clarke yet, not when this is still so new and uncertain, but it would be a lie if she said that she didn’t feel like it would be possible to fall in love with Clarke.

“What if we’re ruining everything?” Lexa mumbles against Clarke’s lips, voicing her one final shred of doubt aloud before it’s too late to turn back.

“What if we’re not?”

It’s the most compelling argument that Clarke could have given her, far better than any excuses that Lexa’s brain could have come up with to keep kissing Clarke.

And so kissing Clarke again is exactly what she does, and it’s what she continues to do, even when one of Clarke’s hands leaves Lexa’s hips and fumbles around for the handle to the bathroom right next to where they kiss against the wall. Clarke’s hand succeeds in getting the door open and she pulls Lexa inside, still hungrily attached by the mouth.

Once inside the bathroom, it’s Lexa’s turn to be pushed up against the door. One of Clarke’s hands locates the lock and clicks it shut, before her hands smooth down Lexa’s sides and rest where her hips start to meet the curve of her ass. Now that they are alone, truly alone behind a locked door instead of just lurking on the shadowy landing where anybody could walk upstairs and see them, there’s no more hiding behind the fact that this isn’t just pretend anymore. This is the real thing.

Lexa has to ask for Clarke’s consent one more time, just to check that they aren’t about to make the biggest mistake of their lives.

“Tell me to stop,” she says to Clarke.

Clarke’s teeth dig into her lower lip and she shakes her head slowly, replying, “Or I could tell you to carry on.”

“Yeah, that works pretty well too,” Lexa agrees, swooping down to capture Clarke’s lips with her own once more.

It all progresses pretty quickly from there. Lexa is torn between the desire to get Clarke naked and under her as soon as possible, and wanting to make this last, wanting to savour every moment because they can only get one opportunity at a first time.

But, Lexa remembers, they only had one opportunity at a first kiss too, and though the circumstance was perhaps far from ideal, it’s what got them to where they are now and she isn’t going to complain about that.

It’s what got them to a secluded bathroom on the upper floor of a frat house while a party rages below, Clarke’s hands fumbling at the hem of Lexa’s top as she tries to pull it up and over Lexa’s head.

They have to part for a brief moment, but Lexa is impressed with the speed at which Clarke manages to remove both of their tops. Lexa feels as though she barely has time to blink before Clarke is standing there with nothing but a navy blue lace bra covering her top half.

“Fuck, Clarke,” Lexa can’t help but choke out.

“Fuck _me_.”

Lexa keeps thinking that it can’t get any more real than it already has – it can’t get any more real than Clarke kissing her without anybody around, can’t get any more real than Clarke dragging her into a bathroom for privacy, can’t get any more real than Clarke effortlessly removing their shirts in a matter of seconds – but she decides that this is it. Because she isn’t sure that it can get any more real than _that_ , than Clarke looking at her with unadulterated hunger in her eyes while asking Lexa to fuck her.

It’s too tempting an offer for Lexa to even try to resist and so she surges forward, mouth crashing slightly clumsily into Clarke’s while her hands seek out the button on the front of Clarke’s jeans. Her fingers fumble for just a few seconds as the way that Clarke hungrily kisses her back has her momentarily distracted, but she triumphs, and then they are pulling the offending denim down Clarke’s legs until she is standing before Lexa in just her underwear.

“Wow…”

Lexa pauses for just a moment to admire the beauty in front of her that is Clarke’s body, curvaceous in all the right places but more than anything just really fucking beautiful, before she drops to her knees and wastes no time in nuzzling her face into the front of Clarke’s boyshorts. And somehow, the fact that Clarke is wearing boyshorts instead of something skimpy and lacy just has Lexa falling even faster with the knowledge that Clarke didn’t plan for tonight’s events to lead to this, it just _happened_.

Clarke stumbles slightly as Lexa presses hot, open-mouthed kisses against the front of Clarke’s underwear, inhaling the scent of Clarke’s arousal as she runs her tongue along the outline of Clarke’s slit over the cotton. Without pausing what she’s doing, Lexa uses one of her hands to nudge Clarke into a seated position on the edge of the bathtub. She continues her teasing until Clarke is practically a writhing mess, then lifts her face away in order to deftly pull Clarke’s boyshorts down her legs and onto the tiled bathroom floor.

Lexa has her mouth back on Clarke in seconds, waiting briefly while she lifts one of Clarke’s legs up and drapes it over her shoulder to open Clarke up, then running her tongue languidly up Clarke’s now unobstructed slit. Clarke is delightfully wet and Lexa takes her time lapping it all up, letting out a low moan at the taste which is echoed by Clarke above her when the tip of Lexa’s tongue teases around her clit.

“Lexa, please…” Clarke gasps.

Lexa wants to tease her, she wants to draw long gasps and moans of pleasure out of the girl above her until Clarke begging her for release, but she knows that now is not the time. Not when they’ve waited so long for this moment. Instead, she obliges Clarke’s request, wrapping her lips around Clarke’s clit and suckling gently on the swollen bud.

There’s a thud as one of Clarke’s hands flails outwards and collides with the bathroom wall, where she rests it for balance, accompanied by a groan that is louder than those that came before it and can surely be heard outside the bathroom if anybody were to walk past. Her other hand finds its place in Lexa’s hair, wrapping the dark locks around her fingers and pulling Lexa’s face even further between her legs.

“Fingers, Lexa,” she pleads. “Use your fingers.”

Lexa doesn’t immediately do as she’s told. She first draws her tongue in slow circles, gradually moving lower as she does so until the tip of her tongue can start working in and out of Clarke’s entrance. Once she’s satisfied that Clarke is sufficiently worked up, she brings one of her hands up and slowly replaces her tongue with her index finger until the entire digit is inside Clarke to the knuckle.

“Fuck … your finger … so good.”

Lexa chuckles lightly under her breath and how incoherent she’s managed to render Clarke in a matter of mere minutes, but wastes no more time. She’s painfully aroused herself, the way that she is kneeling with her legs slightly apart to give her the best stance for eating Clarke out has her agonisingly aware of just how turned on she is, and she knows that the less she teases Clarke, the sooner she can have her turn.

Clarke seems to have a similar idea for the urgency of their encounter, the hand in Lexa’s hair clawing at her scalp until Lexa lowers her mouth to Clarke’s waiting centre once more. She brings Clarke closer and closer to the edge with ease, working inside Clarke with first one finger and then two, while her tongue laps enthusiastically at Clarke’s clit.

The orgasm takes them both a little by surprise. Lexa knows it’s coming – not only can she feel Clarke starting to clench around her fingers but the way that Clarke is becoming gradually less coherent in the way that she eggs Lexa on is a pretty big clue that she’s approaching the edge – but nothing could prepare Lexa for the way that Clarke’s orgasm hits, nor the knowledge that this is happening all because of _her_.

“Oh, _Lexa_!”

Clarke’s hips buck up as she tumbles over the brink of pleasure, her head tipping back as she lets out a guttural moan that seems to triple Lexa’s own arousal. Clarke’s hand on the back of Lexa’s head pulls at her hair and Lexa lets out a moan of her own at the slight pain kink she didn’t realise she had until now – until Clarke.

Clarke comes down slowly, hips still twitching as Lexa’s fingers slip out of her even when her tongue continues to carress at her most sensitive area. When Lexa looks up, it is to find that Clarke is looking at her with hazy eyes full of a mixture of bliss and adoration, and Clarke finally uses her hand to coax Lexa’s head out from between her thighs.

“I have to admit,” says Clarke, as Lexa runs a soothing hand along Clarke’s naked thigh and get up from her kneeling position on the floor to stretch her aching knees, “that is not what I expected to happen when I asked you to help me make Finn jealous.”

“Can you, like, maybe not mention Fuckboy Collins right now?” Lexa asks. “It’s a bit of a turn off.”

Clarke’s eyes widen as she realises the implications of Lexa’s words, and then she is on her feet too, slowly walking Lexa back until she is pressed against the door once more. Lexa takes just a moment to smugly note that Clarke is shaky as she walks, but then it falls from her mind as Clarke’s forehead leans against hers with a smirk of her own on her lips, her hand finding its way to the button on Lexa’s jeans.

“You turned on?” Clarke teases, her hand slipping down inside Lexa’s pants and cupping her over her underwear.

“Yeah.”

“You want me to do something about it?”

Clarke fingertips tease at the hemline of Lexa’s panties, and Lexa lets her head fall back against the bathroom door.

“Clarke, please…”

She’s not going to last long. Lexa has been aware of that since the moment they found their privacy in the bathroom but she is reminded of that fact when Clarke’s hand slips inside the cotton of her underwear to find the wetness within, and again when Clarke’s middle finger slides easily into Lexa’s opening.

“You like that?”

So it turns out that Clarke is a talker, and Lexa can’t really say that she’s complaining at all. Not that she has the brain capacity to think of anything beyond the way that Clarke is making her feel with even just the lightest of touches, let alone formulate a complaint in her mind.

“Yeah, I really do.”

Clarke starts pumping her finger in and out, slowly at first, then a bit rougher when she realises that Lexa is more than wet enough to accommodate that kind of movement. She adds a second finger when Lexa pretty much begs her for it, hooking her fingers inside Lexa’s walls with each thrust and hitting just the right spot.

It’s all a bit too much for Lexa. The hours of pretending to be Clarke’s girlfriend have wound her up like a coil ready to spring, and making Clarke cum turned her on enough to nearly bring her to an orgasm of her own without even being touched. But now with Clarke’s hand down the front of her pants, two fingers twisting deep inside her and the soft part of Clarke’s palm applying just the right amount of pressure to Lexa’s clit with each thrust, she feels it all start to crumble.

It’s slow at first, like the movement of Clarke’s fingers is causing her to slowly slide towards the edge, and then it all happens at once, gravity taking over as she tumbles headfirst into her orgasm. The pleasure renders her incapable of coherent thought, unable to remember anything but Clarke’s name and how good she is making Lexa feel.

Lexa is pretty sure she must have blacked out for a second because when she becomes aware of her surroundings again, Clarke’s hand has slipped out of her underwear and Clarke is pressing hot kisses against Lexa’s bare neck and shoulders, whispering soothing words as Lexa’s comes to.

“Holy fuck,” Lexa gasps out, trying to recover her breath after a mindbending orgasm. “That was …” Lexa trails off, struggling to find the right word to describe the experience. “That was _lifechanging_.”

“Thanks,” Clarke smirks against the skin of Lexa’s shoulder. “My ego needed that boost.”

Lexa smacks Clarke’s arm softly, then she muses aloud, “I have to agree though, not at all how I imagined my night going. And to think I thought I was lucky a couple of hours ago when I just got to make out with you.”

Clarke lifts her head and leans her forehead against Lexa’s.

“I’m so glad I asked you to be my fake girlfriend,” she says, a slow grin spreading across her face.

In a moment of bravery inspired by her post-orgasmic glow, Lexa says, “Why not ask me to be your real girlfriend?”

Clarke pauses, pulling back from Lexa so that she can look into Lexa’s eyes without having to cross her own.

“Seriously?” she asks, a hint of hope in her voice.

“I mean, if that was our fake sex, imagine how good the real thing is going to be,” Lexa jokes.

Clarke’s lips surge forwards and meet Lexa’s own in another hot kiss, before she pulls back to look into Lexa’s eyes once again as she asks, “Go out with me sometime?”

Lexa’s answer is in the form of another kiss, soft and tender and nothing like those that the two have already shared, but somehow even more special than all the others combined.


End file.
